The Walking Trees
by Tolkien FanFicWriter
Summary: "Ents the earthborn, old as mountains, the wide-walkers, water drinking;" (Tolkien: The Two Towers; 572) So begins the Long List, but two lines of poetry can't possibly cover the Ents in their entirety. What have the Ents gone through to have such wordly eyes as they do? The world may never know. Until now, that is. To be updated daily.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Here's a little of history I composed about everyone's favorite walking trees. Some is true-to-canon, some I made up that's based on canon.

Critique is much appreciated and sought after, so I can make future stories better. Enjoy! :) _  
_

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_One: Of the Rising of Root_

_"Bura-rura-rum." _A deep rumbling noise rang out in the forest, shaking the ground and the trees.

Lithe little elves scattered throughout the depths of the wood sang. They had been singing for days now to the trees. Singing of the awakening of roots and of limbs, and the earth giving life to inanimate things.

A creaking filled the stuffy, musty old air that had not seen sun for hundreds upon hundreds of years: the creaking of branches, of trunks, and of roots. And slowly, ever so slowly, roots were unearthed...

Hundreds of years passed. The elves had moved on to other forests, hoping to escape the darkness of Morgoth. The trees felt the darkness' creeping mists, turning their hearts cold and their branches stiff. They very nearly shed the gift of the elves had it not been for the rising of a few strong and lively trees.

And so became the Ents.

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**Author's** **Note:** Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Chapter two as promised! Enjoy! :)

Critique is much appreciated, dear readers.

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_Two: Of the Entwives_

Fangorn went on in his shepherding of the trees as he went on in his business, awakening the young ones, calming the dark ones.

The Anduin flowed mightily nearby as young Fangorn rustled his verdant leaves with each one of his "hum-hum"s and "bura-rum"s.

He was looking for his Entwife, Fimbrethil, off tending her fruitful trees.

Over the hill and through the woods went Fangorn, and with his long, ponderous strides, he reached the Entwife's garden in no time at all. Into a clearing the Ent went, where there was once forest. His Entwife was gone, her garden overgrown and barren. A desert there was where there was once trees and vegetation and flowers bearing fruit.

Through the forest rang a loud, booming cry: so began the hunt for the Entwives, a long and, so to say, fruitless search.

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The smaller-than-small child-like men stared up at the walking fruit trees, who were settling right next to their odd homes-in-holes. The trees were indifferent to their neighbors, which understandably caused great suspicion in the curly-haired creatures. And so, whether the small ones desired it or not, the walking trees grew great gardens of fruit trees.

Every so often, the mystical and somewhat feminine trees (if such could be said of mere walking trees) would leave their blooming homes, and the curly-haired young ones would fearlessly pluck the fruits of the trees' labors. Every time, they would be dragged away by older (but still quite young, of course) curly-haired ones, with bigger feet and thicker hair. Sooner or later, however, the older short ones did notice that the Entwives did not begrudge the fruit, and came themselves to pick it. Legends say the Took of those people himself came to talk to the strange foreign trees.

As time passed, so did the kind and open-minded trees (if such could be said of mere walking trees). They passed into the Old Forest, and ever since then, the forest came alive like it never was before. At least, not in the memory of the curly-haired ones.

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Long ages were wasted in the search for the Entwives. Men saw legends of old exist among them, and as is their way, they remade the legends anew. Trees, trees who walked! But soon the legendary trees became just that and walked back into the mists of myth.

The Ents mourned for the loss of their fairer and more open-minded counterparts. Fangorn (or as some began to call him in the way of men, Treebeard) was old now, old not just with age, but with sorrow as well. He was the last of the Ents to give up on the search for the Entwives, even as he was the first to start searching. After he faded from the world of Men, there never was quite a legend like the legend told at fires about how loud was his cry before walking into his forest. It was then that the forest became known as Fangorn, after the last Ent to be seen entering its dark growths.

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**Author's** **Note:** Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Chapter three as promised!

Enjoy! :)

Make writing better with critique of your choice! (In other words, will eat reviews for soul-food)

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_Three: Of the Fading of the Ents_

Years, thousands of years passed. Fangorn slowly became the oldest and wisest of the tree shepherds, as the rest of the old ones faded and fell: from grief of the loss of the Entwives, and from the evil of the spreading darkness of Sauron. The numbers of the Ents began to dwindle, and so began Fangorn's desperate attempt to awaken trees from their prolonged slumber.

Long days (though not long to him) he spent in slow, and not hasty, efforts. For months on end he would listen to the whisperings of his herd of branches, leaves, and bark. He would whisper back in the language of the Ents in an effort to awaken a fir here, an ash there. He was growing desperate to keep the Ents in Middle-Earth, and not just in songs of the Greenwood elves.

One tree was woken that was very hastily named Quickbeam, for he was the hastiest of Ents, even among the saplings. The Elves might have called him Bregalad, a flowing and rolling name nearly (but not quite) as long as his Entish name. The forest seemed to brighten with joy and mirth at the end of his sleep.

For every tree, however, that was stirred to Ent-being, two became dark and angry, corrupted by the malice that covered the land. The growing mass of trees with an unkind core became known as the Huorns. They spread their control of Fangorn Forest, corrupting the trees nearby, weakening them to Sauron's reach. For the anger that the Huorns held in their hearts weakened the trees and filled them with hate for all that might harm them. Sauron's irresistible tendrils of darkness and malice quickly took the place of trust and joy.

In fact, in between calming Huorns-to-be and awakening Ents-to-be, the Ents of old became tired. It was not a tired that could be easily cured by a drink of Ent-draught. No, this was a weariness that reached past bark and leaf into the wood of the Ents, right where the wood functioned as a heart does for Men.

And as darkness and chaos crept back into the doings of Middle-Earth, the Ents calmed.

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**Author's** **Note:** Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: ** Chapter four as promised! Thanks for reading, everybody! I really didn't expect anyone to read this, so it is with the deepest joy that I say... Enjoy! :)

Reviews are good. Critique is good. Combined? Perfection!

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_Four: Of the Last March of the Ents_

Leaves stirred in the windless air of Fangorn Forest. There was a rumor of smaller-than-small creatures who entered the Forest. Word of them was spreading like wildfire from tree to tree, in tree-whispers, very hastily and fearfully.

"Has anyone...heard from...the Ents?"

"Does anyone...know what they...are...? Hmm-hoom..."

"Do they come...to burn...the forest?"

The quiet and ponderous speech of the trees rang throughout the forest, which appeared to unnerve the small creatures, which in turn unnerved the trees. Little orcs were very unpredictable. However, the trees did not have to wait for information on the hairy things.

Before long, Fangorn himself had come to investigate. It was then that the trees were amazed, for the Ent started to do very hasty things, going against his own motto of "do not be hasty". Within merely a day of the curly-haired ones entering the forest, the old Ent had called an Entmoot.

That Entmoot was the shortest and hastiest of all the Entmoots that came before, and set the trees to further gossiping about the event that followed-the last march of the Ents. Many Ents that were Soon-To-Be-Trees came and joined the march, waking their unmoving branches and speaking for the first time in years.

The march stomped on, and the trees quaked at the force of the tree-shepherds. The Ents boomed and hoomed, roused and enraged to the very roots of their being. Their march shook the ground, the sound rivalling the mightiest of war-horns in the East. For it was the most terrible war-horn for any enemy to hear; the Ents were going to war, and none who stood in their path would leave it unharmed, least of all a wizard's war machines chopped from ancient trees dear to the forest.

And once again, Men saw and heard the entities of legends of old.

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Nothing moved in Fangorn. The leaves did not stir, the branches did not wave, the trees did not whisper. The life of the forest was elsewhere, entangled in the business of Wizards and Elves and Men and Dwarves. And of course, Hobbits.

And from then on, no Ent (or tree for that matter) would count out the smallest of the Free-Peoples of Middle-Earth in the Long List. For it was they who stirred the largest of creatures in Middle-Earth to war; hobbits, smaller-than-small, hair curled, big-footed, and carrying out deeds greater than the oldest of Ents.

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**Author's** **Note:** Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Chapter five up as promised! Sadly, the time has come for this Ent-like tale to come to tree-hood, to stand forever more in the archives of Fanfiction, and to have an Author's Note that analogies the life of the Ents. Love all the reviews, views, follows, and favorites. It was time. Thank you all so much! Enjoy! :)

Reviews, ah, what can be said of reviews?

"The highest reward for a person's toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it."

~John Ruskin

And I do hope that your reviews help the stories I give to you become better stories.

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_Of the Last _

Long had Fangorn felt old age coming upon him. With every movement his thick legs creaked and cracked. Fangorn's mossy beard turned dry and gray, covering his knotted and nearly immobile shoulders. It had been merely hundreds of years since the little Hobbits came to visit him, with the Elf and the Dwarf, but still Fangorn felt thousands of ages older than he did then.

His oldest friends, Finglas and Fladrif, had faded but a hundred years ago. It was undoubtedly time, yes. But who would lead the dwindling numbers of the Ents?

And so it was that the last Entmoot was gathered. Long it lasted, even by the standards of the tree-shepherds. They took their time to decide who would take the place of the Ents' oldest and wisest advisor and friend.

In long, pondering Entish, of course, went the proceedings. First came the general issue of the Moot, how the Ents of old would be no more very soon, and that the Ents required an Ent to look to in the dark times that might come.

"Not just any Ent, hoom-hoom. The Ent cannot be old...like I am. No...he must be an Ent for ages to come, bura-rum, before his fading to tree-hood."

Of course, the Ents agreed with Fangorn's statement, especially the eldest of the tree-herders. After all, they felt tree-hood creeping up on them too, as a Warg creeps up on its prey before the kill.

"Who, hoom-hoom, do we choose to be the mentor, the advisor, the wisest of the Ents, but can not be the oldest?" Nurthond, a hasty and budding Ent asked, his words spilling into one another like a young, rushing stream.

And the discussions began. The Entish rumblings went in waves of volumes, rising to thundering bellows and lowering to hushed whispers as the Ents discussed who to come to for help before the tree-herders would all fade to be ash, rowan, oak...

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, but to Fangorn, a week was all that was needed. Ah, if only he could have stopped the incessant rumblings of the young Onodrim who thought their opinion the wisest. Three months passed before he gave a large "Hoom!" and the Entmoot clearing went silent.

"Hoom-hoom...there is one Ent I would choose, one Ent...bura-rum...who showed us, hundreds of years ago, that hastiness was sometimes necessary...hoom...in the business of Men."

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Fangorn stood by his home.

That was all he could do, stand. To most Ents he was indistinguishable from the trees that he so lovingly had cared for, unrecognizable from an ordinary tree stiff with age. The disappearance of the oldest Onodrim was not surprising to any.

But one Ent knew that Fangorn stood where he did, he knew of his last days, after the old Ent had appointed him his replacement.

He knew that the most famous of Ents was a tree.

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Bregalad had not shed his nickname of "Quickbeam" quite yet. He was very hasty for an Ent of his age, but he was more wise than when he met the Hobbits so many years ago. He had grown, his beard longer and greener, his steps longer and slower.

And he sorely missed the figure of Fangorn in the forest. He had always looked up to Fangorn, a slow Ent, fearsome when roused, wise at the most pressing of times. And Bregalad was not near as good at being an tree-herder as Fangorn was. While Fangorn could wake trees to Ent-hood, Bregalad had trouble. Yes, the rowan-like Ent needed advice.

But it was not his fault that the trees no longer whispered as they did. For the Ents were fading into tree-hood all around him. Several years back, the badly burnt Beechbone, the battle-scarred last living Ent from the Last March of the Ents (besides Bregalad, of course), had turned to a tree, and had cracked within months. He was a log on the forest.

No, it was not the time of the Ents. It was the age of Men, an age of light, but an age without the magic of olden times. Without the axe-wielding dwarves, without the singing elves, and barely a mention of the joyful Hobbits. And without the majestic Ents.

And Bregalad was alone.

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Quickbeam stood alone, a few feet from the borders of Fangorn Forest. But it was not Quickbeam. It was a rowan tree, a beard-like mass of grey moss waving in the wind around the top, the trunk bent and knotted near the bottom.

And he was once the oldest of Ents, before his tree-hood.

For he was the last of the Ents to roam about Middle-Earth.

And now, the only magic left of Middle-Earth was in song.

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**Author's** **Note:** Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.


End file.
